Of Body And Mind
by Wings Of Sanguine
Summary: Emma and Mr. Gold come to Hell's Kitchen to find Neal, only to find themselves looking for help from a blind lawyer who seems to know everything. Things take a turn for the worse when they are forced to bring him back to Story Brooke, as a mysterious gangster and magical entity is out for his blood. (DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN OUAT, DAREDEVIL OR ANY CHARACTERS)
1. Chapter 1

The office space was small as she walked into it, a strong musky smell wafting up from the gray carpet to her nose. The floorspace was large and open, with a plastic fold-out table pushed up against the far wall under a small window. Plenty of light made the room somewhat cheery, but Emma couldn't help feeling her heart sink in her chest.

If she was going to help Mr. Gold find Neal, however, then this dingy little office was the only chance they had.

A young woman sat at the fold-out table, flicking through a stack of papers. A small leather briefcase sat on the floor by her feet, and to her left was a stack of manilla folders, some of which looked ready to burst. Looking around, she noticed they didn't even have a proper filing cabinet. Or any other office-like furniture for that matter.

"How long does it take to talk to a receptionist?!" muttered angrily, pushing past Emma and into the office. The woman still hadn't looked up from her work as the man stated, "Well, isn't this a shithole?"

"Mr. Gold-" Emma warned him, her eyes leering toward the young secretary. She was young- probably in her twenties- and wearing a white shirt with black polka-dots matched with a gray pencil skirt. On her feet were a pair of black kitten heels that sunk into carpeting and she had blond hair that reached a little past her shoulders. Emma thought she could pass for an older version of Ava, but quickly pushed the thought away when a voice spoke up from behind them.

"Well, it's _our_ shithole," said a heavyset man as he stalked into the office, swinging a briefcase at his leg. Emma stepped aside to let him in, eyeing how his hair was rather long for someone working in law- didn't these guys have regulations? Protocols of some sort?

"Foggy, hi!" the secretary finally glanced up from her work, giving the man a small wave as she got up. "You want some coffee? The pot we bought arrived this morning." Emma and Mr. Gold watched as the man punched the air with his fist in excitement at the prospect of a morning brew.

"Yes! _Finally_ , we can drown ourselves in salty bitterness every morning for the rest of our miserable lives!" he joked, making the secretary laugh as she went to make it, disappearing into another room. A few seconds later the three of them could hear the whirring of a machine, which Emma was pretty sure coffee pots didn't do. Nodding, the man shoved his hands in the pockets of his gray suit, a blue and gray striped tie around his thick neck.

"I apologize for that," he said, approaching them casually, "Our office space is new, so we're still trying to gather up equipment and things." Emma smiled politely as they stood there, eyeing how greasy the man's hair looked, praying that he at least washed it once a day before leaving for work. They stood like that for a few seconds until a wave of realization hit him.

"Oh! Sorry, I'm Foggy Nelson!" he awkwardly reached out to grab Emma's hand, giving it a quick, firm shake, "Is there anything you folks need? Coffee?"

Foggy Nelson. The name didn't sound real, but then again, who was Emma to judge? The man standing next to her was deemed Rumplestiltskin, so something like "Foggy Nelson" was pretty decent in the way of names. Mr. Gold accepted the offer and the secretary ("This is our secretary, Karen Page," Foggy introduced her proudly.) came out of the other room with a boiling pot of liquid gold. Steam rose from the beverage, evaporating in the air as she carefully set it down amongst the papers on the table.

"Foggy, do we have any mugs?" Karen asked, tucking her hair behind her ear so it didn't dip into the pot. There was a pause until Foggy raced to another room to find them, the banging of cabinets sounding in the hallway.

"Thank you, but it's okay-" Emma began, Mr. Gold's glare stopping her in her tracks.

"They've already made the pot, dearie, we may as well have some," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Emma rolled her eyes at him. A few hours ago, he was a nervous wreck trying to get through the airport without magic. All of a sudden he now had the confidence to talk down to her?

Emma had had enough. But, since they were already here (and because she didn't really know where else to go), she stayed silent, grateful as Foggy came out with four mugs in his hands. As Karen poured them a few cups, he then turned on them.

"So what brings you two to Hell's Kitchen?" he asked, sipping from his coffee only to yelp as it burned its way down his throat, "Ow! Hot! _Hot!_ "

"Foggy! Careful!" Karen chastised him, pulling a hanky out of her skirt pocket. Emma was impressed- not by the fact that Foggy managed not to drop and spill his coffee, but that Karen's skirt had actual pockets. She made a mental note to ask her where she shopped later.

Mr. Gold, Emma noticed, was silently glaring at them, his look, quite frankly, a little unnerving. Emma jabbed him with her elbow as she took a cup from Karen, careful not to burn herself. The old man however ignored her, jerking stray strands of hair out of his face, giving Karen a malicious grin. His teeth were two rows of pearly whites, a few of them having yellowed with age, although Emma was quite sure magic played a part in it a well, considering those in the Enchanted Forest didn't have dental care.

"You keep saying 'our', Mr. Nelson," Mr. Gold pointed out, "Why is that? Ms. Page works here, does she not?"

Foggy opened his mouth to answer, faltering a bit. No doubt the question had caught the lawyer off-guard, and Karen seemed to shift her weight uncomfortably as well before clearing her throat.

"There's a sign on the door, sir," she explained, "Mr. Nelson is partners with-"

"If he has a partner, why do they not show themselves?" Mr. Gold demanded, narrowing his eyes at her. Cautiously, Emma steered him to a corner of the room, sending an embarrassed smile their way.

"Excuse us for a minute," she said with forced cheeriness, "My grandpa can get a little _jittery_ , if you know what I mean." Once they gave her a nod of approval to speak with him, Emma did all she could not to rip him apart right there and then, "Gold, _what the hell?!_ "

"If we're going to find my son we need to act quickly-" he began to protest. Emma groaned.

"I want to find Neal as much as you do, believe me," Emma stressed, "but we're in New York, not Story Brook. You can't go around talking like that here!" Mr. Gold looked taken back, his veiny hand traveling on his shirt to brush the brooch he wore at his collar, the small pin clipped to his tie. He wasn't used to being so helpless without magic, Emma knew.

There was a pregnant pause in the air before Emma continued, "Listen. If we're going to find Neal, we do it my way, okay?"

"What exactly is _your way_ , dearie?" Mr. Gold snapped under his breath, "these two haven't exactly been the most helpful, now have they?" Emma sighed. That much was true. They seemed like nice people, but out in the real world- In the Enchanted Forest- they would never survive.

"Just let me handle it, okay?" Emma pleaded, "Please?"

She took his silence as a yes. Clearing her throat, she carefully guided him back tot eh conversation, catching them in the middle of whatever conversation they had decided to divulge whilst she and Mr. Gold spoke.

"-about five o'clock, right?" Foggy asked Karen, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't think so, Foggy," Karen shook her head, "Besides, Matt hasn't even walked into the office yet, and you _know_ how hard it can be for him to navigate Hell's Kitchen sometimes-"

"I told him he should have gotten a dog!"

"Does he even _like_ dogs, Foggy?"

"They're trained animals, Karen! Therapeutic, even!"

Emma rocked on her heels as she waited patiently for them to stop speaking, the conversation turning into a friendly yelling match as Foggy stalked across the room to peer out the window.

"Excuse me-" she tried, cut off by Foggy's boisterous ranting.

"And besides, he's managed well enough, right?" Foggy asked his secretary.

"How about we worry about getting a proper sign on your door instead of taping up a piece of cardboard, okay?" Karen gave him a laugh before turning her attention to Emma and Mr. Gold, "Now, would you like to take a seat in the other room? It might take a minute for M-"

The door banged open and in walked a tall young man in a gray suit that matched his partner's, with black loafers and a gray and blue striped tie that closely resembled Foggy's own. His brown hair was combed nicely, and Emma caught a whiff of aftershave and the look of stubble on his cheeks and chin, outlining pretty pink lips

"I'm here, sorry," The man apologized, his head turning in multiple directions at once as he muttered, "Geez, I could never get used to this…"

The four of them stood there, Karen and Foggy eyeing him warily as he ran his hands along the wall, . the light coming in from the door gave the man's sunglasses an opaque red tinge if he moved in a certain way. Grunting, they watched him slide his hand over a rather sharp piece of wood that jutted out of the doorframe, pulling his hand back abruptly.

"Shit!" he muttered, thumbing the injury on his palm, then to the guests, "I do apologize for my late arrival, an issue came up at home." Emma watched Foggy and Karen exchange glances.

"But Matt, you live alone," Foggy admonished, eyes brimming over with suspicion, "Are you hungover?" He shook his head.

Emma was well aware that as each minute passed Mr. Gold grew more agitated.

"Leave it to a douchebag like him to walk into work drunk and late, eh?" he muttered angrily. He tapped his cane on the floor, leaving small dents in the carpet. His fingers- covered in gold rings- ran over the top of his cane, the eagle head attached to the curve of the polished wood. The man cocked his head, facing their general direction.

"I may be blind, but my hearing is exquisite," he stated simply, cracking a smug smile, "So I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

Emma paled at this statement, Karen clapping a hand to her mouth. Foggy grimaced, eyeing Mr. Gold nervously. The man had a rather unhappy look about him, his rings tapping against the curve of his cane as the blind man said, "Foggy, can you help me?"

Foggy allowed him to grab his arm, the man's fingers digging into his clothes. Carefully, Foggy guided him around the office, allowing him to get a feel for the space they'd be using. After a few minutes, he let go, and allowed himself to stand in the center of the room, the sunlight hitting his face.

"Well, it's smaller than I expected," he stated.

"Matt-" Karen lolled her head in annoyance, jumping when Mr. Gold cut her off.

"Now that you've had your morning stroll can we please get down to business?" he snapped, "I have serious matters to attend to and I cannot be kept waiti-"

"Of course, of course," Matt said almost lazily, holding his hand out, "Foggy, if you don't mind." Once again, Foggy steered his friend in the right direction, Karen following anxiously with a clipboard against her chest. Emma stayed behind with her as she watched Rumplestiltskin follow the two men into a room.

Once Foggy helped Matt get into a chair, Karen pulled out chairs for both Emma and Mr. Gold, she herself leaning against a wall. Foggy took a seat next to his partner, pulling out a legal pad to prepare for a long session of writing. Emma took this chance to take in her surroundings. Like the lobby, there was a single window, and the floor had the same gray carpeting. The walls were painted a boring eggshell color, and they were sitting at another dinky table with uncomfortable metal folding chairs to sit on.

"I'm Matt Murdock and this is my partner, Foggy Nelson," Matt seemed to get right down to business, clasping his hands on the table in front of him, "How may we help you today?"

Emma leaned forward in her chair, brushing back her blond hair. She couldn't help but keep her mind on what Matt had said earlier. The thing about being blind. How would a blind man be able to help them? The savior could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest, almost trying to break free of her ribcage. Matt cocked his head like a curious puppy, and although he still kept his glasses on, she thought his gaze was boring into her skin, dragging his initials on her body as if she were personal property, a piece of paper someone handed in for a grade.

"It seems you're nervous," he commented, "There's no need to be. We don't bite- at least, Foggy doesn't." Foggy chuckled at his joke, Emma following suit uncomfortably.

It took her a few minutes to open her mouth, "Um, I'm Emma Swan, and this is my grandpa-"

"You're lying."

Emma was taken aback, widening her eyes at him. Her temples throbbed, and she could feel her heartbeat getting louder and faster as each second passed. Shaking her head, she asked with disbelief, "Excuse me?"

Matt dragged his fingers along the table until his hand found Foggy's sleeve, "Foggy, could you and Karen maybe take a lunch break?" Now it was his friend's turn to stare at him with confusion.

"But Matt-" he began to protest.

"I need a new cane," Matt said bluntly, "Can you two go out and get me a new one? And feel free to take your time with lunch." Awkward nods were exchanged, and Emma soon found herself and Mr. Gold sitting alone in the room with this Matt Murdock, under his questioning eye. She could hear Karen and Foggy argue between themselves before they left, the slam of the door signaling their exit.

"Now," Matt cleared his throat, "tell me why you're in Hell's Kitchen."

Rumplestiltskin finally piped up, his voice gravelly and unsure (which was very unlike him, in Emma's mind): "Aren't you supposed to do this with your partner?" Matt grinned at them, revealing a two rows of perfectly white teeth. His glasses gleamed red, Emma shrinking at her reflection in the rounded pieces of glass. Birds twittered outside, small shadows flitting by into the room.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't tell me how to my job, Mr….?" Matt trailed off, waiting for a name. Rumple sighed, clicking his rings on the plastic tabletop.

"Swan," he answered, sending Emma a look of reassurance. She nodded, turning back to face the lawyer. "My name is Jonathan Swan."

A moment of silence.

"You're still lying to me."

Emma scoffed, shaking her head at him. She was practically leering at him as she accused, "There's no way you could know that, Mr. Murdock. I can assure you that this is my grandfather, and that's his name-"

"Heartbeat."

Emma licked her lips, "What?"

Matt jutted his chin at them, "You're heartbeat. I can tell when you're lying because of it."

"Just like you're superpower, eh, Miss Swan?" Rumple mumbled with humor, a smile cracking his ugly face. Emma was silent. She often considered her superpower to being able to tell when people were lying. She always knew by the face, how they held themselves when speaking. Little things like that.

So the fact that this man- this _blind man_ \- was able to tell the same thing by just a heartbeat was astounding. She sat there fuming, her lips turning down to frown deeply, lines wrinkling her forehead.

"If you were smart, you wouldn't have blown your cover," Matt said simply, shoulders hunching as he collected himself.

"It wouldn't have mattered, Mr. Murdock," Mr. Gold said with a sigh, "It seems you would have figured out anyway." Matt grinned that same grin from before, and Emma was unsure if there was any malicious intent behind it. Some bad karma.

"So it seems," he agreed, "but please, let's get back to business. Why are you here? In Hell's Kitchen?" Emma opened her mouth to answer until Matt raised a hand, "And don't say you're tourists. Tourists don't have heartbeats that can envy even a cheetah's speed. And cheetah's a pretty fast, wouldn't you say…."

Emma froze when he said her name. Her full name.

"Emma Swan?"

Now Emma can't remember if she introduced herself properly. Did she tell him her name? With her brain befuddling itself, she tried to choke out an answer, but nothing came. Matt's voice bought her back to reality, smooth and sharp like a razor's edge.

"Miss Swan, I understand that you aren't from New York. And I understand that you were lying about this man here being your grandfather. Now, before I do something i might regret, please explain to me what you're doing in Hell's Kitchen."

Mr. Gold laughed audibly. It was loud, scratchy like broken record. Little gasps of breath snuck in with each wheeze, his shoulders shaking.

"Is something funny, sir?" Matt asked, his shoulders tensing.

"You're _blind_!" he cackled, throwing his head back, "What is there that _you_ of all people can do?!" Emma let a gasp escape her throat as she looked at her companion in horror. To Murdock, she attempted to apologize, stuttering out complete nonsense she knew wasn't going to get anywhere. Judging from Matt's face, he was not amused.

The table creaked as the lawyer got up, planting his hands frmly on the plastic. shoulders heaving with a sigh, he asked, "Miss Swan."

"Y-yes?" Emma managed to get out. His sunglasses were a menacing red color in the light. They reminded her of blood, with the bright crimson lenses and thin black arms.

"May I touch your face?"

Emma was hesitant at first, before leaning towards him, nodding even though she knew he couldn't see him. "Yeah, uh… sure, I guess."

Her breath hitched in her throat as she came into contact with rough skin and calloused fingers. His nails grazed the fat of her cheeks ever so slightly, and she felt phantom traces of him once he drew himself away, only to feel a weight gently pull at her hair. Emma could feel the scrutiny from Mr. Gold's glare as he watched, drumming hi fingers on the table impatiently as Matt's fingers traveled across the bridge of her nose, poking her temples and finally dragging slowly across her lips.

"You're a very beautiful woman, Miss Swan," he complimented her with a smile. Emma blushed, although she knew he couldn't see. The only other person to tell her that outright with such boldness was Killian, but she highly doubted the pirate captain was sober when he said it.

"Thank you, Mr. Murdock," she said quietly. The lawyer turned to Mr. Gold. Holding his hands out, he asked, "May I?"

Reluctantly, Mr. Gold stooped over to accomodate the man, shivering as soon as his nails graced his mottled skin. Seemingly, Matt sensed this, his hands having stopped to hover over Mr. Gold's lips. "You're nervous."

"And this is unnecessary," Mr. Gold retorted.

"Sir, what is the strongest part of the body?"

Emma was struck dumb by the question.

"What?" she interjected. Matt ignored her, lowering his hands from Mr. Gold's face. With Karen and Foggy having been gone for a few minutes now, an eerie silence befell the office, creaks and groans now audible in corners where they were not present a moment ago. Dragging her shoe against the carpet, Emma swung her legs idly under the table.

"No need to be nervous, sir," Matt said, adjusting his glasses so they were farther up the bridge of his nose, "It's just a question." Mr. Gold's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"Is this a test?" he asked with uncertainty. Emma noticed his hand slide slowly into his pocket, rummaging around in the expensive silk material. Emma pursed her lips in disapproval. If he had bought magic to New York City, then they were in for a ton of trouble.

"Whatever that is you've grabbed in your pocket, please don't bother with it," Matt said suddenly, and Mr. Gold hesitantly removed his hand from his clothes, placing it out on the table in front of him. Green and blue veins decorated his sagging skin, creating spiderwebs on his knuckles that met at the base of his wrist. Liver spots decorated his fingers here and there, his nails a disgusting yellow color, although they were trimmed neatly. "Now, what is the strongest part of the body?"

Emma could practically see the gears turning in Mr. Gold's brain, his thought process overflowing with possible answers as he was practically stared down by the lawyer.

"I'd say the heart, no? Pumping blood all day, it definitely has it's work cut out for it," Mr. Gold finally answered after thinking for a good five minutes, a delighted grin pulling at his mouth. It was a good answer, Emma agreed. With all the veins in the body, the heart was bound to be doing the most work, right?

But why would a lawyer feel the need to ask such questions anyway?

 _SLAM!_

Hands came raining down on the table, and Matt nearly spit at them when he opened his mouth. Emma heard the pinprick of a scratch caused by Mr. Gold's rings against the plastic of desk when he moved to lean backwards in his chair, just as surprised as she was.

"Wrong." Matt said matter-of-factly, "It's the mind."

 _The mind?_ Emma thought. That didn't make any sense!

"Now," Matt sniffed, wiping at his nose with his sleeve, "What is the body?" Mumbling to himself, Mr. Gold pushed himself out of his chair, getting prepared to leave, for "I _don't have the time for this nonsense you absolute idiot-"_

" _Sit. Down."_ Matt ordered, his voice cutting through the air like steel. For a blind man, Emma had to admit he was very intimidating- and handsome, but that she would keep to herself. No reason for Killian to start getting jealous. In fact, as she looked at him, Matt looked a bit like Killian as well (it was most likely the hair though. Other than that they could pass as brothers, maybe distant cousins, even.) The chair creaked as Mr. Gold carefully lowered himself onto the hard metal, eyeing him cautiously.

Cracking his knuckles, Matt asked him again, "What is the body?"

"Skin and bone," Mr. Gold said, "A carrier for all our organs, our feelings- what the _hell_ do you want me to say?!"

Matt splayed his fingers out on the table, the thin digits looking pale against the gray color painted on the desktop. His papers sat untouched to the side, and Emma noticed small raised dots on the pages, no traces of ink anywhere on the white.

"The body," Matt said, his voice low, "is a weapon. The mind controls the body, the body is a weapon, therefore humans are weapons."

That was deep, Emma decided. That was something she never thought of. Why would the body be a weapon? Clearing her throat, she spoke up, "But the body is a way for us to express ourselves, Mr. Murdock. Tattoos, piercings, clothes- hell, even sex. Our bodies are a way for us to love one another and ourselves-"

"When did this become a therapy session?" Mr. Gold quipped, annoyance hinging his tone. Emma knew this wasn't getting them anywhere, but they had to do something. Talking about this for a few minutes might help them escape quicker. Or so she hoped.

"-and to love one another. We use our bodies to love and express feelings," Emma ignored Mr. Gold's sarcasm, trying to distract Matt as best she could. She thought she could see his shoulders stiffen at the word "love."

Obviously, something happened. And she had struck a nerve as she finished, "What do you say to that? To love?"

A moment of silence from all parties. Then:

"Love is for crybabies," Matt grimaced, "feelings have no place in the one considered a weapon."

He let them sit quietly, contemplating what he said, Emma watching as he fixed the cuff of his suit jacket. She thought- no, she knew he was wrong. That was no way to think about someone, or anything.

But instead of arguing, she had to get back to the task at hand. To find Neal that was her real objective here. Sitting in an office in New York City talking about love didn't do her or Neal or Mr. Gold any deal of good. And it was a damn waste of this lawyers time as well, with his associate and secretary traipsing off to do who the hell knew what.

"So," Matt said, "Tell me what you're doing in my city."

Glancing at Mr. Gold she sighed. They were going to have to tell him sooner or later, right? Training her eyes on the red lenses, she said, "Alright. We're not from New York-"

"That much is obvious," Matt growled, upper lip twitching slightly.

"-we're from a town called Storybrooke," Emma ignored his comment, "It's in Maine. My name is Emma Swan, I swear. My friend here is called Mr. Gold." She paused, waiting for his reaction. She watched him cock his head in question, a sigh heaving his shoulders back as he tasted the air.

"Gold? Like those rings on his fingers?" he asked. Emma nodded, quickly saying, "Yeah. How'd you know they're gold?"

"The way they scratch the table, with that faint echo. The density in which it uses to fall against the plastic is a good indicator as well," Matt explained nonchalantly. "But do continue. I sense that there's something a little off about this whole situation."

There was a pause before he asked, "Am I right about that, Miss Swan?"

Gulping, Emma nodded, not bothering to recite a confirmation. The air seemed thick with torture, the weight of Matt's questions hanging over her head like one of those sledgehammers Roadrunner used on Wile E. Coyote in those cartoons Henry watched every Saturday morning.

"If that's the case," Matt said, breaking the silence, "then let's be frank with one another-"

"Mr. Murdock-" Mr. Gold made an attempt to cut into the conversation.

"-Either you tell me why you're here wasting my time or I call my associate and secretary to come and kick you out. We both know neither of our parties have time for this, and I have another client to attend to later this afternoon." Matt's voice was curt, Emma lowering her gaze as he spoke.

He was right. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, people had lives outside of her own. Here was a man trying to run a law firm by himself in New York City and she was wasting his time trying to spin tales of grandeur to get what she wanted. The birds from earlier ceased to sing, and the sun had gotten lower during her and Mr. Gold's stay, the office now covered in a mid-afternoon glow. The chair scraped the carpet as Matt stood up, using his hands to avoid bumping into the table. He staggered a bit as he caught her shoulder, off-guard about the level of her body with the table.

"Sorry, Miss Swan," he apologized in a low monotone, then louder, "Now, if you excuse me, I need to wait for my new cane. If you like you can wait with me and tell me what you're really doing in Hell's Kitchen, or go home and stop wasting my time." The ticking of a clock sounded in Emma's ear, and she glanced up to see a white circle with black dashes and numbers. The hands signaled that it was at least three o'clock in the afternoon. She didn't remember when they had arrived.

"How long a break did you give them?" Mr. Gold asked politely. Emma jumped in her chair; she forgot the old man had come with her to the office.

"About an hour or so," Matt replied.

"Then we have about an hour to kill," Mr. Gold said. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Do you know the story of Rumpelstiltskin?"

Emma was surprised to see Matt turn around, leaning against the wall for support. A languid smile crossed his face, and he slid down the wall until he sat with his back against it on the floor. It was rather unprofessional in Emma's mind, but at this point, it was their only option.

"I'm familiar with it, yes," Matt answered, "But I highly doubt that children's tale has anything to do with why you're here and sitting in my office right now." Mr. Gold cocked his head, an ugly smile pulling at his lips.

"Oh it does, dearie," the wizard said, "trust me on that one."

Emma sighed as Mr. Gold began to tell him the story, about magic and mischief, all the while waiting for the look of disbelief that was sure to come from this man that she so desperately needed help from.

Hopefully that look never came, but she would only be able to tell once the story was finished.


	2. Chapter 2

The story was not totally insane- a little outlandish, but not incredibly insane. At this point, something like magic wasn't much of a farce; the Avengers existed, didn't they? They were practically _built_ on magic. Emma had been apprehensive while Mr. Gold explained their situation, as her heart beat was deliberate, not too fast but not too slow either.

"So this man Neal," Matt said, "is the father of Miss Swan's son and your own son?" Mr. Gold nodded- there was a slight change in air pressure, a small whistle in his ear.

"Yes," Mr. Gold said. Matt had decidedly not gotten up from his position on the floor, seeing as there was no use if he did. He didn't know the office space very well yet, so to try and walk around like he owned the place would hilariously fail. He was aware that it had gotten dark out, judging by the chill that had settled in- how long had Karena and Foggy been gone? Matt shrugged; he didn't really care what they did with themselves at this point.

There was a slight creak- the woman down the block had gone back to pleasuring herself. A hiss, and he knew that a cat was fighting for an old piece of fish against a raccoon. The sound of crickets was somehow deafening, and Matt sighed.

"Is everything okay?" he heard Emma ask, her voice filled with concern.

"Too many noises…" Matt replied, coughing into his fist, "Now, you think he's here? In Hell's Kitchen?" Before Emma could nod or even say anything, the door swung open, and Matt swiftly dodged getting clipped on the chin with the heavy wood door.

Foggy and Karen. He heard the same wisps of hair being pushed back, the same fidgeting fingers against leather. His associate and secretary waltzed in, Foggy ready to break him a new one, as his heartbeat was racing a mile a minute. Karen's not so much. In fact, it was a little difficult to place where she was with his ears bombarded by Foggy's accusations.

"Can you _believe_ that this absolute whackjob is in the paper again?! _Again, for chrissakes!_ " Matt heard the slam of a newspaper, the tiniest crinkles made when Foggy's fingers rubbed against the paper itself. The kid seemed cute when he was angry, from what Matt could tell.

But he knew who Foggy was talking about.

"The Devil Of Hell's Kitchen….?" he heard Emma read aloud, "Who is that?"

"We don't know," Foggy said, "but we've had many clientele asking us to find him- and weren't you guys supposed to leave, like-" Foggy checked his watch "- five hours ago?"

"And it takes you five hours to buy a cane?" Matt admonished, "My butt's fallen asleep sitting here all day." He heard Karen's patient laugh as he felt her grip his arm; dainty hand that shook a little when concentrating. She had had barbecued chicken for dinner, the smell of it lingering on her fingers. A faint layer of lavender soap was atop it, trying to prove that she had cleaned and washed her hands.

"Why are you sitting on the floor then?" Karen asked, Matt shuffling forward as she guided him back to his chair. Her movements were somewhat jerky and stiff; with her heartbeat and breath hitching at just the right moments he knew she didn't want to bump him into a wall. He slid easily onto the metal seat, adjusting his tie (the knot had become loose during his squabble with Mr. Gold.)

"Got lazy," Matt said simply, "So, what did you and your friend here have in mind, Miss Swan?" He knew Emma was surprised the conversation had shifted to her, the smallest of movements as she squirmed in her chair, the sudden spike of her heart, then the petering out as she calmed down. Foggy was currently trying to fix his cuff links, as they had gone off center on his jacket.

"Oh, uh," Emma said, "Well, we want to find Neal, as you know from our story-"

Matt nodded. Neal, the guy everyone seemed to want to be. From what they had told him, he was pretty popular with the ladies, being seen last with his fiancee Tamara and again with some witch named Zelena.

Of course, that was totally not weird.

He could detect Foggy's fingers rubbing at the ink on the newspaper- no doubt he was trying to read the article about that "whacko": as he liked to call him. Matt preferred the term vigilante, but hey, he couldn't persuade people to use certain terms now could he? By now it was nightfall- he couldn't see any dust dancing by the windows nor hear the chirp of birds- now they were crickets. Down the block, the woman had quieted down, the cats across the road precariously balancing on the edges of fences and garbage cans. The raccoon had decidedly gone home.

"Are you still reading that article?" Karen asked Foggy with disbelief, snatching the paper from him.

"Hey! I wasn't done with that!" Foggy cried, trying to snatch it back. Matt knew he would be unable to- Karen was wearing heels, and presumably had longer arms than his associate.

"Alright dearie, well, if we're down here, I think it's time we find somewhere to stay- Henry is still downstairs, you know-"

Emma groaned, a noise that wasn't as loud as Matt first though it to be- he heard it rumble in her belly more than her throat as she replied, "Why did we even bring Henry? He's too young to be doing this sort of thing-"

Henry was her son- Emma's son, Matt realized. If he strained a bit, he could hear him talking to some book in his lap, the toes of his sneakers banging against the linoleum floor as she swung his legs idly off the edge of the wooden park bench in the lobby.

What the book was for, he couldn't tell. And it was hard to place- was he holding it? Was it sitting in his lap? He could smell the faed leathery musk from up here, hear how his small nails picked at the fraying gold edging. It was an old, old book, Matt could discern that much. And it was clouded by some sort of… fog, some sort of filter he couldn't get through.

Leaning forward in his chair, he asked, "Miss Swan is it alright if I get a closer look at that book your son is reading downstairs?"

There was a pause- Emma was contemplating ehr answer, her heartbeat having risen slightly.

"How did you know my son was reading a book?" she asked warily, raising an eyebrow that he couldn't see.

"The leather smells like it's very old- presumably from the Middle Ages. It's got traces of dirt pounded into it, leaving that weird smell grass gets when wet. Is this correct?" Matt tried, smirking at his clients. Now it was Mr. Gold's turn to speak up.

"We're on the second floor of this building," he stated with that annoying voice of his, "and you mean to tell me you can spell a book from two floors up?"

"He does it all the time, man," Foggy interjected, "It's kind of his thing- isn't that right, Karen?"

Karen nodded quickly, plastering a smile on her face. No doubt Matt knew she was slightly weirded out by this. A _blind_ man being able to _smell things through floors_? Come on, that's pretty far-fetched!

"Yeah- once he told me he could smell my perfume from two blocks away when I came late to work," she confirmed, "Granted it's a little weird, but that's life, right?" Matt smiled fondly, pondering the moment. That morning Karen's alarm clock hadn't gone off- he could tell by the way she was running, her heels scratching small notches in the pavement as she ran.

"I remember you put it on because you forgot to apply deodorant," Matt chuckled to himself, and Karen discreetly put her nose to her arms, sniffing experimentally.

"Well, I did this morning, so no worries there," she pouted, then, "Foggy, how about we go get dinner? I'm famished!" Her stomach growled loudly as if to testify, her face turning red.

"Alright- should we go to Signora's apartment again? Her cooking was pretty good."

"No, her apartment is still under reconstruction, remember?"

"Right, right- what about shawarma?"

Footsteps, the rustle of coats. They were at the door, Karen fidgeting with her purse again- how many goddamn times was she going to do that? Matt could never hear anything but the deterioration of leather, it was sickening to his ears.

"Go, have your shawarma," Matt flicked his hands at them, sending them off, "and tell Mr. Stark if he needs a lawyer for reparations to his tower he knows where to find me!"

He was answered by the slam of a door- either they had ignored his request or were going to be obedient little friends like they normally were. _I guess that's what happens when you run a law firm with your two best friends, huh?_ Matt thought to himself, the heat in the room having descended upon their departure. Of course, Mr. Stark was going to ignore his offer and try do reparations to Avengers Tower himself: illegally and without a permit.

Tony Stark, Matt decided, was always going ot be a pain in the ass, no matter what. The man was a child, and that would never change.

"I'm sorry, did you say Stark?" Emma asked, "As in Iron man Stark?"

Matt nodded, "Yup. If your fairy tale characters are real, then so are your kid's comic books. Which they have yet to release in Braille, I'm afraid, so I can only settle for the really crappy descriptions from Karen and Foggy."

Emma grinned, the squeak of her skin stretching in Matt's ears, "Does that include sound-effects and voice overs?"

"The whole shebang, I'm afraid," Matt agreed. Emma had a beautiful smile from the sound of it. Did she smile often? There was a bang as Mr. Gold smacked his cane against the leg of the table.

"Can we go now?" he whined, "I'm not as young as I once was, and my legs are starting to ache."

"Yeah," Emma slumped her shoulders, "Henry is probably getting tired of reading the story of Peter Pan over and over again, huh?" Matt thought he could detect Mr. Gold's muscles contract at the name "Peter Pan."

Strange.

Ignoring it, Matt grabbed his new cane- Foggy had thankfully left it leaning against the wall behind him. The metal was smooth and cold against his skin,and he could tell the leather strap was freshly made and molded, the strong smell of wax tickling his nostrils- was leather even made from wax? He made a mental note to have Foggy or Karen look it up later. Sighing, he said, "Well, I wish I could help you, but I'm not sure if there's anything I could _really_ do…."

"What do you mean?!" Emma suddenly blurted, "We came to you for help, didn't we?!"

Matt grinned. He loved spinning these little traps. Heaving another sigh, he clasped both his hands around his cane, nonchalantly swinging it to and fro in front of him, making it look like he was going to leave, go home.

"I don't know," he shrugged, "this seems like such a big ordeal- magic, swordfights- not to mention that _fantastically_ confusing family tree. Who else are you related to? Dumbo?"

He was greeted by silence, their heartbeats having skyrocketed. They would experience a heart attack at any moment, he was sure of it. But he ha to wait. It was all part of his ploy. Foggy and Karen sometimes never let him out of their sight, despite the fact that they know he can fend for himself out there in the big bad world.

Matt was hoping he could get these people to help him see more of the world aside from Hell's Kitchen; no pun intended of course. Surely they- along with Claire's help- could hold down the fort for at least a weekend.

He would have to give them one of his many phone numbers, however, if he were allowed to go with this Miss Swan and Mr. Gold. And that could pose an issue.

 _Oh well. Guess they'll have to deal with it then._

"Okay first of all-" Emma began, her throat itching like fire in Matt's ears, the crackles booming against his skull like fireworks.

"Emma," Mr. Gold soothed her, "the man is blind. And he has a point." Matt rolled his eyes, despite the fact that he was wearing sunglasses.

Another silence greeted them, and Matt took all his power to manage getting out, "Alright, well, it's late, and my apartment is very empty. I should probably be going-"

"Wait-"

"-and it was very nice to meet you. I hope to see you both in Hell's Kitchen soon if you need anything, you know where to find me." Matt declared, his cane tapping its way to the door. At least, he thought it was. Having been so used to hearing the sft striking of the carpet and floor, it surprised him to find that he was unable to budge.

But then there was that same old filter. Like the one that clouded the little boy's book.

"You're using magic, aren't you?" Matt teased, placing it together like a puzzle. He knew they were going to reveal themselves at one point, even if they had already told him their ridiculous story. A stutter, and Mr. Gold released the spell, allowing Matt to move freely once more.

"You're more perceptive than I thought," Mr. Gold complimented, and Matt had to agree, considering what he had pulled earlier on in their visit.

"And you're more of an idiot than I thought," he laughed, his mouth stretching across his face to reveal a perfect smile.

A clap of Mr. Gold's hands sent Matt's senses into a tizzy, his brain unable to process the loud noise created. It made the man harder to place- was he sitting with Emma, who was still at the table? Or was he standing by the door? Or (considering his use of magic) had he simply disappeared?

"That's not fair, playing with a guy like that," Matt pouted jokingly, "I'm blind! Have some pity!" Finally he was able to tell where the man was- next to Emma, who still hadn't moved from her spot. He liked when his clients sat still- it made it easier for him to read them. Right now, Emma had calmed down, but not by much, He could sense that she was still nervous, with the way her nails scratched away at the enamel on her teeth. Her son downstairs, however, was still reading his book, checking his watch as the hands ticked along with the clock on the wall of the lobby.

"Well, what is fair, dearie?" Mr. Gold scoffed, "You gonna help us or not?"

Matt pondered the request. Both of them wanted this Neal guy back, that was evident. Especially considering he was the kid's dad, and the kid was none the wiser as to why they were here in Hell's Kitchen in the first place.

Wait, scratch that. The kid knew full well why they were here, heck he planned the whole trip. Matt gave him a nod of approval and sent a thought the boy's way, _You're smart kid_. Scraping his cane against the carpet, he leaned his cheek against his shoulder.

"So," he asked, "When are we leaving?"

"What makes you think you're coming with us?" Mr. Gold sputtered, "Besides, we just got here, Bae-"

"That's what we're calling him now?" Matt interrupted, "'Bae'?"

"-could be anywhere in this _goddamned shit hole-"_

 _WHACK!_

With the flick of his wrist, Matt had silenced the man by smashing his cane into the wall. Pity, really; it was a new office, and he liked it, he did. But that goddamn creaking and whining was just getting to be _too damned much_.

"And that is precisely why you need me, no?" Matt suggested, twirling his cane in his fingers. "You two don't know a _lick_ of Hell's Kitchen. You'd be lost within minutes, admit it. A young woman and her old geezer, traipsing around like they own the place…." Matt heaved a sigh, "Makes me laugh, to be quite honest." Silence met his words, and he knew he had proven his point.

"So," he repeated, "When do we leave? Because standing around like a bunch of assholes won't do your Neal-"

" _Bae_ ," Mr. Gold said through clenched teeth.

"...It won't do your _Bae_ very much good, now will it?" Matt corrected himself, not wanting to banter with the man any longer. With a grand flourish of his arm, he swung his cane in front of him to lead them out and down to the lobby.

He was curious to see what was just so goddamn special about that book that fogged his senses,making it unable to detect.


End file.
